Down By the Bay
by jirle
Summary: Hermione takes a much needed holiday to Corsica and meets with someone unexpected previously on OWL under NargleHunter .


Thanks SnapesBeatrice for the beta and the advice! Character's thoughts are_ in italics. _Be forewarned, this gets a little explicit towards the end, heed the rating! This was previously posted on OWL under pen name NargleHunter.

Hermione was on holiday at last! Sun, sand and lots of alcohol—no responsibilities for three whole weeks! Most important, no MEN! No Ronald bloody Weasley, no Kingsley bleeding Shacklebolt, no Harry freakin' Potter, _nada—nunca—niente_. The little voice inside Hermione's head, which may have been just a little margarita enhanced, said that was just fine. She set her tall fluted glass on the table by her lounger, leaned back, slid on her sunglasses, and basked in the sun. Heaven.

For the last two years—ever since the Final Battle, really, she had been working, seemingly, every day. Taking the position with Kingsley was a fantastic opportunity, helping to shape the post-Voldemort wizarding world, both a noble goal and impossible to resist. She had taken on the job with her usual gung-ho attitude, finishing her NEWTs at the same time, and soared. All was going well until about a month ago, when her world fell apart.

After what seemed like the fifteenth time she had to break a date with Ron because of an emergency at the Ministry, Hermione went to surprise Ron with a bottle of his favorite Firewhisky as an apology. Instead, she found her erstwhile boyfriend in bed with Harry freakin' Potter, of all people._ Well, that explains why Ron did not mind 'waiting' until we get married_, Hermione fumed.

After one spectacular tantrum, many rapid-fire hexes and a hysterical Floo call with Susan, Hermione sank into the same bottle of Firewhisky. Susan, like the best friend she was, poured Hermione into bed and went to Ron's flat to assess the damage. There, Susan reversed the hexes on the boys—well more like slugs when Hermione got through with them—and went to console her best friend.

Over the next few weeks, Hermione became increasingly hostile until Kingsley finally ordered Hermione to take some leave or be forced to go to St. Mungo's for mental observation. He didn't mean it, of course, but that didn't exactly sink through Hermione's red haze at the time. Just another man on 'the list.' So, Hermione packed Crookshanks off to Susan's flat, booked a Portkey to Corsica, and Apparated to her late parents' beach home—now her home. One look at the blue water and the pristine beaches at the Bay of Rondinara, and she knew she had made the right decision. _The Bar is open_, she thought bracingly, and she mixed a nice big pitcher of margaritas and took them out to her table and lounger on the beach.

The next morning, she awoke with a splitting headache and promptly charmed the curtains shut. _Ugh—hangover. I hope I remembered to put some potion in the fridge._ Hangover potion worked at room temperature, but Hermione hated the taste unless it was chilled. She stalked naked to the fridge and looked—Jackpot!—grabbed a vial of hangover potion, downing it in one long swallow, and then proceeded to chase it with orange juice straight from the bottle.

Hermione padded back to the bathroom, brushed her teeth—_Eww, orange juice and toothpaste, big mistake_—and washed her face, noting in the mirror the bags under her eyes, and yelled at her reflection, "No way! A paunch! I cannot possibly have gained that much weight!" It wasn't really as bad as she imagined, but her lack of physical exercise and eating regular meals after being on the run, coupled with a demanding desk job, equaled an out-of-shape Hermione. She was probably only a pound or three within the weight she was at the end of sixth year. _At least my boobs are looking up._ Starvation hadn't helped that little factor, but maturity plus three mostly square meals did. Hermione preened a little bit, looking at her profile in the mirror.

A run on the beach would be just the ticket to getting back into shape, so she pulled on some stretchy shorts and a tank top, charmed her hair into a swingy pony tail, plugged in her iPod, and went out for a run. Hermione liked the fact that she could use all the electronics her parents had given her through the years. She could never use them at Hogwarts, and they did not make the cut for what to take on the year the trio was on the run.

A little pang of sadness hit her while she selected the music shuffle, as Hermione remembered that this was the last thing her mum had given her. _This was the last thing Mum gave me._ A nineteenth birthday present, and neither of her parents were alive by the time she was twenty.

Another happy home ruined by Voldemort and his cronies. _Hmmm, and what were they for the most part? MEN._ She added several more names to the mental script of 'Men to Hex Later,' aka 'The List.' What she would do with her list, she didn't know, but certainly it wouldn't be good.

While running along the sand, she turned to her newest time-biding occupation, fantasy. She had frequent fantasies about the men on 'The List,' most involving pain and suffering—_nothing sexual thank you very much!_ It made her feel better. In her dreams, Ron and Harry had been found semi-permanently, well—stuck together in a most embarrassing fashion. That one was frequently extrapolated to have Ginny screaming and throwing things at them. _Brings a good point, Ginny is not going to take this well when she finds out. Oh, I don't know if I can bear to tell her, file that under 'after vacation.'_ In another fantasy, Lucius Malfoy lost his hair. All of it, chunks falling out during a high profile ball while reporters took pictures and everyone laughed and pointed. And her personal favorite, Percy bloody Weasley was dunked repeatedly in the Fountain of Brethren by his suspenders, each of the statues spanking Percy every time he came up for air much like a yo-yo. Best part, nobody would know that Hermione had engineered it all. As much fun as these little fantasies were, she kept them in check—for now.

She ran for about half an hour then decided to turn around to go for home. The burn in her muscles felt good; pushing herself physically helped with the demons. While running along, she looked at the homes along the beach, sparsely populated though they were. They were pretty and fairly modest for the area, predominantly of Italian design, and at this time of year they were mostly empty; it was still early for tourists. She noticed that the house two down from her had signs of life, though. There was a table out on the patio now and signs of life. She wondered who had taken the place this season. She knew from what her parents had said some years ago that it was a rental.

Vague memories of playing sand castles floated around her mind. iI wonder what ever happened to that man, he was so nice to me, playing when he surely would have rather done something else. Teacher of some sort, I think mum and dad said. Surely he would not be on my list, so patient with a lonely little girl whose parents were busy with other things. 'Sir'—_well I never knew his name, I suppose._ She hadn't seen the man since she was ten years old. Her family hadn't holidayed there the year Hermione had gone off to Hogwarts, instead deciding to take a tour of Europe. Since then, Hermione had not come on holidays to the beach with her parents, preferring to study or visit with friends during the holidays, not to mention all the hair-raising antics she got up to with Harry and the Weasleys.

Now finished with her run, Hermione toed the sand just along the froth of the water line, leaving grooves that lessened as the waves washed over them. _Goodness! How long has it been since I built a sand castle? I bet that would be fun. I must do that at least once while I am here. First a shower!_

Hermione made herself a healthy salad out of local produce, picked a novel out of her bag, poured herself a not-so-healthy, really big vat of Cosmo and made her way out to her lounger. As she ate and drank, she looked out over the bay and felt peaceful. For the first time in ages, her mind was not spinning, and she was able to appreciate the simple beauty of the pale beach and very blue water. She closed her eyes and rested, while unbeknownst to Hermione, she was being watched from the shadows.

Over the next few days, Hermione got that feeling, the one where the hairs on the back of the neck stand up and prickle. It felt as if she were being watched and, more than that, that there was magic around. She hadn't used much magic since arriving and it felt different in any case. _I must be getting antsy just being on my own. Perhaps some shopping? Retail therapy is always good._

Hermione Apparated just outside the village of Calvi. There she could do some of shopping and walk along the quaint streets. It was a pretty village very much steeped in history. She loved visiting there with her parents, looking at the shops and stalls. While selecting some produce, she again felt that same presence of magic. She looked around guardedly, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but it made her uneasy enough to want to return home. With memories of the war still strong, she strengthened her security spells and Disapparated to her villa to make a late supper. Feeling much safer after an evening of good food and wine with classical music playing, she fell exhausted into bed.

The next day, she went for her now routine run and on returning decided that this was the day. Sand castle day. She went into the garage her parents had added to the house and unearthed her sand tools from a box of old beach toys. Grabbing a large bottle of water on the way, she went to the beach and started to plan.

Hermione sketched the outline of her castle in the sand, first digging the moat and piling the extraneous sand in the middle, while bringing back buckets of water to strengthen the walls of the first several floors of her castle. The castle, like any endeavor of Hermione's, was huge and complex. Probably over a meter each side, it was shaping up to be a monster. There were intricate passageways and battlements; Hermione going so far as to trace patterns of stone into the sand to simulate blocked walls. She relished the feeling of the grainy sand and water oozing through her fingers, bringing back memories as she built her castle. A remembered sense of accomplishment settled as the castle came closer to completion.

Hours passed, and when she finally stopped for a moment, she saw something that had her falling on her backside in the sand. A smiling, tanned, practically naked (or at least without many layers), definitely NOT dead Severus Snape.

"Hello, little Jane. Long time, no see." The silky voice, calling her that name, brought back a tidal wave of memories from when she was a little girl. He was attired in black jeans and an open throated, short sleeved shirt, his tattoo exposed on his forearm.

Hermione's jaw dropped as she ran her gaze over her former professor. "Sir! You are alive!" Hermione exclaimed, casting a quick wandless diagnostic spell to be sure, her other hand moving to her wand as a precaution. "Nobody calls me that anymore, not since my parents—oh, my it was you!" breathed Hermione, her voice squeaking with emotion as she stood to have a better look at him. "The man who used to play sand castles with me."

"Obviously," deadpanned Snape. "Well, little Jane. Would you like me to help you with your castle?" The corner of his mouth twitched in what could be considered a beaming grin, knowing Snape.

"Oh, yes, sir—Professor." Snape smirked and kneeled down and selected several sand tools and began working on the far side of the castle. He said nothing, testing to see if she could contain herself and after short time, they fell into a companionable silence.

"Sir—what should I call you now anyway? You are not my professor any longer, and sir is not quite right. Perhaps Mr. Snape?"

"Severus will do." Snape watched with amusement the multitude of questions she wanted to ask him play across her features; he was secretly impressed at her control.

Hermione repeated, "Severus, then. Please call me Hermione as well."

Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore and began tentatively, "Severus—?" Snape stopped her by raising an elegant finger and proposed that they catch up over dinner that evening. The castle was pretty much complete, so Hermione excused herself to change, and they agreed that Snape would call for her in an hour. As Snape opened the doors to his lounge, he saw Hermione return to the beach with a Muggle camera to take a picture of the castle. Chuckling softly, he went inside to ready himself.

True to his word, exactly one hour later, Snape knocked on Hermione's door. He sucked in his breath, eyes boring into hers and offered his arm. "You look very nice this evening," he greeted her. They silently walked the short distance to Snape's house, where lovely smells were already emanating from the screened door. Snape led her to a stool at the counter where he was preparing ingredients.

"Would you care for a glass of wine?" His eyes quickly roamed over her beige silk blouse and pretty patterned wraparound skirt, lingering on her bare feet and ankles and stalling momentarily on a gold anklet before snapping back to her face.

"Yes, please. Whatever you are having is fine." Hermione blinked. _Was Snape just checking me out_? She returned the favor, noting the trim black slacks and casual shirt. _Really! Does he own anything other than black? Hmmm—all those layers he has been wearing over the years were hiding a rather attractive body._ _Wait for it, girl, turn around now_— Snape swiveled on his heel to get a silver knife from the block on the counter. iBingo! _My goodness, the rear view is fine as well. _

A blush crept up her throat when it occurred to her these thoughts were about her greasy, bat-like Potions master. This was her former professor, her formerly dead professor. _Speaking of dead, how to bring up that subject, and how on earth does Snape the Potions master mesh with the nice man who played sand castles with me in the summers?_ She sipped on her wine, trying to figure out a polite way to introduce the subject. "So, what are you preparing?" she ventured.

Snape had noticed Hermione's perusal and chuckled softly while chopping some slimy looking red things. "Just a simple pasta dish. Some artichoke hearts, sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, spices, chicken breast over spinach pasta in béarnaise sauce.

"Sounds lovely, Severus! Anything I can help with?" Hermione was surprised at what Snape thought was simple, but then compared to some potions, perhaps this was pretty tame.

"No, almost done with the preparations. It just needs to simmer for about twenty minutes while the water boils for the pasta. Would you like to move to the lounge while we are waiting?" Snape set a timer spell with his wand after scooping the last of the sun-dried tomatoes into the pan and lowering the heat. Hermione rose and Snape picked up both of their glasses, taking them to the table in front of the settee.

"I know you must have a lot of questions. I will answer them if I can, but I must say I am a little surprised that you have managed to contain yourself this long. The Hermione Granger I remember was quite unable to keep from bouncing up and down with her hand in the air and speaking her mind, welcome or not."

_Did the Potions Master just tease me? Merlin, I am blushing. How embarrassing._ "Well, sir—sorry—Severus, I suppose none of us is quite what we were before the war." Her eyes cast down, and she jumped a little mentally when Snape rested his hand on her forearm and swiftly pulled it back sharply, like her skin burned him. iWhat was that? /i She felt sort of an electric tingle that remained when his hand withdrew.

"I was sorry to hear about your parents. Obviously, I could not extend my condolences at the time." Snape looked genuinely contrite. "You know, of course, I got to know them a little as well during those summers long ago. They were truly nice, decent people. It really was a shame what happened, a terrible accident. The Dark Lord had nothing to do with it, in case you were wondering, though they would have been targeted if he knew where they were." Hermione's parents had passed in a freak sailing accident in Australia a few months after she had relocated them.

"I know, and thank you. Mum and Dad were always off on a great adventure, trying something new. They were big outdoors people, skiing in the Alps, hiking the Andes, snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef. I suppose that they at least died doing what they loved to do." She closed her eyes as if to ward off the onslaught of memories, then began speaking again. "When I went back to find them—you know I had hidden them in Australia during the war." Snape nodded. "I couldn't find them where I had them set up in Sydney. I had an awful time backtracking, I didn't know that they hadn't moved on to another city or what had happened. I finally found some news articles about the unidentified couple who had died on a sailing trip months before; somehow, I knew it was them. I went to see the constables and was able to identify my parents by the possessions that were in evidence."

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek. Snape thrust his hand into his into his pocket and handed Hermione a white linen handkerchief with black stitching for the monogram. "Thank you. You know, I am almost surprised that this is not black, too?" She turned up a corner of her mouth while dabbing at her eyes. Snape patted her hand and excused himself to stir the meal to allow Hermione a few moments in private to compose herself.

When he returned, she seemed to be all right, though her eyes did look a little puffy. "We have a few minutes before dinner is ready; I just put the pasta in to cook. Would you like me to tell you about the beach visits when you were a child?" Hermione nodded in affirmative.

"They started as a coincidence. This house is owned by Lucius—or some company of his, at any rate. He lends it out to people from time to time. One night as we had dinner, I complained endlessly about the dunderheads exploding an unusually large number of cauldrons, and he insisted that I needed a holiday. He set me up here in Corsica, my only stipulation being someplace where I knew no one." He took a sip of wine and seemed to gather his thoughts. "I spent a few weeks every year here as a guest of Lucius', I watched you and your family that first year. You were seven, and I was intrigued when I saw your magic, and I knew your parents were Muggles.

"Your parents obviously loved you, but were a bit wrapped up in each other. I don't think they noticed you all the time." Hermione sadly smiled in agreement. "They certainly they did not see the signs of your emerging magic. One day I observed you making the little flags fly on your sand castle, even though there was no wind and your plastic toys were marching around the castle edge—a sure sign of a good deal of power for one so young." Snape smiled inclining his head at Hermione. "You also were peeking at your parents, angling yourself in-between to make sure they did not see you. Conscious use of magic is not often seen at that age. Yet every time you looked at your parents, behind the surreptitious glance was naked loneliness. It reminded me of … someone I once knew." Snape's face shuttered momentarily, displaying no emotion. "Well, even if you did not seem lonely, I would have tried to speak with you and try to assess your magical ability. As I said, it was quite remarkable for one your age, especially from a non-magical family."

Hermione was in her own personal Twilight Zone, she knew it for sure now. iWell, let's just go with it and hope he doesn't turn grouchy/i, she told herself. iAt least the Snape in this reality is hot. Oh Merlin, did I just say Snape was hot? Well, I suppose I did. Harry would have a fit/i. "Was that when you decided to approach me, Severus?"

"Yes, fate lent a hand there when one of your toys blew up the beach and I brought it to you. I remember you inviting me to share your castle building that day. It really was quite nervy for a seven-year-old." Snape smirked briefly. "I should have known what I was dealing with right away. We built sand castles that day. I hadn't had so much fun in years. My family never went on holiday to the beach, so I had never built one before." Hermione's eyes widened. "Not everyone's family can afford such outings," Snape said stiffly.

Hermione nodded, quickly schooling her expression to one of polite interest, belying the sharp pull she felt for the boy Snape. She was sure he would not want pity.

"That evening I sent an owl to Dumbledore, inquiring if you were on the register for Hogwarts, determined to get you there if you were not. Of course you were, and Dumbledore sent a reply for me to keep an eye on you because of the level of magical control you were already displaying. Often that type of control requires guidance so that the child does not progress too quickly, and in certain types of children. Well, you know of the Dark Lord's abilities at a young age, along with his already sociopathic tendencies. It was a possible concern."

Hermione felt a flare of irritation at that comment, but then the timing charm rang and Snape moved to serve dinner. Hermione felt her stomach grumble, and went to sit at the chair Snape gestured to at the glass table. She savored the tangy flavors of the dish. "This is marvelous, Severus. I have never had anything quite like it." Snape thanked her, offered her some fresh bread, and returned to his story.

"I endeavored to spend some time with you, and to observe you and your family during my holiday. I could see quite plainly that you did not pose a threat to anyone, that you just had quite an active imagination and a strong magical inclination."

Hermione felt the tension lesson in her shoulders and took a drink of wine. She didn't realize how much the comparison to Tom Riddle had bothered her until then. _Really, the tact of a Jarvey sometimes, though he does have lovely manners otherwise. _

"I was encouraged to continue my holidays each summer and keep an eye on you, and so I did for the following two years. Lucius was accommodating with the loan of this house, though I never did tell him why I chose to come back here. I did not return the year before you entered Hogwarts, however; I did not want to take the chance you would identify me as one of your professors. That would not have been optimal." Snape frowned as he spoke the last bit.

"I daresay it would have ruined your reputation as the grouch of the dungeons. Imagine, you playing with a small child, and enjoying it," intoned Hermione with a bright wide smile.

Snape felt himself knocked back by that thousand-watt smile. He had seen it directed at others before, but never himself. Maybe it would not be so bad to have that directed at him on a more regular basis. He refilled their wine glances while contemplating. "Quite," Snape arched his eyebrow in a most familiar manner. "Can't have my reputation ruined, now can we." Hermione almost choked on her wine. "Would have been patently disastrous—children thinking I can have fun," he teased.

They ate in silence for a while, both in private amusement of the situation. "Severus, do you want to talk about the Final Battle? I mean, Harry, Ron and I saw you. We saw the color run from your face. I have seen people die before. I was sure—"

Snape drew himself up. "—that I was dead. I was, or quite close. Lucius again. He and Narcissa came looking for me afterwards to claim my body. And before you jump in, I do not blame any of you; you could not have known the difference," Snape firmly said at Hermione's anguished look. "I made a time-lapse potion that I had taken before I went to meet the Dark Lord. I had put the pieces together and deduced the Dark Lord would kill me before the end of the battle, so I brewed an anti-venom potion specifically keyed to Nagini that would 'put a stopper in death' four hours after the victim—or I—had been bitten. It was intentional that I would appear dead, then the potion would kick in after there was adequate chance for people to … observe my supposed state."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. She knew the Potions Master was brilliant, but this was phenomenal.

"I woke up as Lucius was starting to move me. Scared the crap out of him." Snape's face lit at the memory of startling his friend. "Lucius and Narcissa took me to Malfoy Manor and helped me recover. It took nearly a year to heal all the side effects of Nagini's venom."

Hermione laid her hand gently on Snape's. "Severus, why don't we sit outside? It's very nice out this evening."

Snape sighed in relief and picked up Hermione's hand, leading her outside.

They sat down in the sand looking out at the bay, never releasing each other's hand. Hermione leaned back into Snape's broad chest, he hesitantly wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Sensing no discomfort from her and feeling her relax a little more, Snape relaxed and enjoyed the silent companionship. He found himself absently rubbing her shoulder while they watched the moon rise. Hermione turned and lifted her head as if to comment on the beauty of the moment, and then he leaned over and captured her lips. Softly, experimenting, feather light brushes. Snape drew back, a little surprised at himself, and Hermione sat blinking at him in wonder. Then she twisted in to him and pressed her lips to his.

Hard.

It was like they snapped. Suddenly Hermione was on top of him in the sand, grinding her hips into his obviously aroused bulge, kissing him for all she was worth, their tongues dancing, learning from each other what they liked. Snape pulled Hermione to him and rolled her over in the sand, half leaning on her, not breaking the kiss, and pulling her blouse from the waistband of the skirt, running his free hand on the bare skin of her stomach. She shuddered, dragging his hand to her breast, then tugging at his shirt in turn, needing to get to bare skin. "Severus," she groaned. He stiffened and jerked back sitting on his knees, rubbing his face in his hands and back over his hair.

"Hermione, I must apologize. I never intended to take advantage of you like that. I am truly sorry." Snape was running his fingers over the lines between his eyes and up over his forehead.

"Severus," Hermione said while kneeling directly in front of him. "I was not offended at all; in fact, I ithought/i I was rather enjoying myself." She hesitantly took his hands from his face and held them between hers. "I will have you know that I want this every bit as much as you seem to have," she said with a glance at his still-tight trousers to make her point. "So if you don't want me, then you can fight me off."

With that, Hermione launched herself at Snape, pulling his arms around her, pressing her breasts up against him and kissing him furiously. He pulled them both up and started feasting on her smooth neck. She thought she heard him whisper "Thank you," and then he whisked her up off the ground. His eyes—those sexy, fathomless deep eyes bore into her, questioning, "Your place or mine?"

Hermione felt those words shoot straight between her legs and she shivered a little. "Yours is closer," she answered breathlessly.

He walked quickly up the stairs into the house, still carrying Hermione, hinting at the stamina that was about to be tested. Setting her down in the bedroom, he set about slowly unbuttoning her blouse. "Uh-uh." Hermione declined and Snape's face fell. She gave him a most coquettish look and said, "Let me." She pushed him in the chest and he fell, sitting on the bed, then she proceeded to dance slowly to her own music while unbuttoning her blouse. Every inch of creamy skin made Snape a little harder, and he twisted the fabric of the duvet around his fingers to keep himself from jumping up and taking her right there. But damned if he wasn't enjoying the sight of the progressively more naked Hermione, and he wanted to make it last.

Finally, the blouse dropped to the floor—_oh, my! She isn't wearing a bra!_—and Hermione ran her hands over her torso, still dancing, feeling her breasts, tweaking her nipples while her head leaned back, her hair brushing the small of her back. _What a glorious sight_.

At that, his cock twitched as if to answer. _Bloody right! Squeeze her tits!_ Snape tamped down his inner voice at that. _All right. You calm down. We don't want this over before it starts._ Next, the skirt floated to the ground, leaving a glorious Hermione clad only in very tiny, black—Snape audibly sucked in his breath—knickers. He could see she was wet already, and her scent was beginning to waft over to him. She un-knotted his hands from the duvet and pulled him up to her. She proceeded to unbutton his shirt as he inched her knickers down, feeling the smooth skin of her hips and letting them drop to the floor. He suddenly drew his wand and divested his clothing, and they looked at each other, panting.

Hermione's eyes glazed over as she looked down. "Merlin, Severus! Where have you been hiding that! Something that big should have its own name, if not its own postal code." She leaned in to grab him around the back and started kissing his chest.

He drew a sharp breath as she licked the flat disk of his nipple. "Who says it doesn't? A name, I mean," he bit out.

He set her back, grinning mischievously. Hermione thought she might have seen a shadow of a little boy peeking out, tapped her foot, "Well?" she demanded. He scooped her up and dropped her on the bed, leaned over her and replied, "Excalibur." She rolled in laughter and he jumped on her and proceeded to kiss her breathless. Gaining control for a moment, she rolled Snape onto his back, pushing his shoulders against the bed and straddling him. His hands immediately fondled her breasts. "Severus, I feel I must impale—" Hermione sat down swiftly on Severus' cock, suddenly sheathing him to the hilt, contracting her inner walls in cadence with her words "—myself … upon … the mighty … sword … of Arthur … Strike that—" she giggled at his sharp look, "—of Severus."

"Hermione, you're trying to kill me here," Snape complained weakly. Leaning up, he took a nipple in his mouth, suckling while his hands roamed, pulling her luscious ass towards him, seating her even more firmly. "Start moving, girl, if you know what's good for you," he groused, adding a little spank to her bottom. Still teasing him, she lifted herself up agonizingly slowly, an inch, two inches, three, and plopped back down, taking pride in his sharp wheeze. He nipped the side of her breast in retaliation, and went to work on the other nipple. She did it again, slowly rising up his shaft, teasing, wiggling and plopping down. He could have sworn he hit her cervix on that one. _Gods, she is trying to kill me. But what a way to go,_ he thought with a mouthful of nipple. He nipped her on her other breast for symmetry and decided to take this game into his own hands.

Suddenly he lifted her up, flipped her on her back, all without disengaging, and looked into her eyes. Holding her gaze, he thrust into her, long, hard and deep. _Gods, she is tight._ He added a little grind at the end to add to her pleasure. Slowly he withdrew until he was almost at the tip; he could feel the quiver of her walls as she tried to draw him back in. He slammed back into her, and this time they could hear the smack of wet skin from sweat and her juices. He increased his pace without decreasing the intensity while giving and taking long luxurious kisses, her hips rising to meet him at the apex of the thrust.

They were both close to release, her cries pounding out, and sweat shining on their bodies. He felt his balls drawing closer to his body, he stopped fully insider her. "Are you ready?" In response, he heard a fevered moan. Taking that as a yes, he drew back for one more thrust, reaching between them to tweak the sensitive button at the juncture of her thighs. "Come for me! Now!" He slammed into her one last time, hearing her cry, "Severus! " Her shuddering around his cock transported him to his own release.

They lay where they were, not withdrawing, but a mass of quivering flesh. Breathing heavily, stroking each other, Snape moved to get off Hermione. Steel bands of arms pulled him back. "Don't you dare. Just for a bit." He relented, sagging forward, stroking her face, kissing her eyelids, and nose, and finally her lips.

"Come now, my sweet, we both need some rest. I am an old man, after all." She chuffed but smiled and nodded.

He lay on his side and drew her back to his stomach, curling around her, still stroking. He kissed her hair, as she looked up at him momentarily, slumberous amber eyes drifting shut then jerking open.

"Severus, can I ask one more question?" Hermione asked while Snape pulled her a little tighter.

"I could stop you as soon as I could stop the sun from rising." He smiled, kissing her hair again.

"Severus, was it a coincidence that you came here to Corsica this week?"

He stroked her hair again, leaning his cheek on her head.

"No, my love, I came for you."

They both drifted off to sleep, dreaming of each other.

Anyone interested in Corsica can look at some cool pics at /corsica/


End file.
